azrael
The tall man of cyan and stardust is free among the stars. In his dreams, he dives into nebulae and bathes in the aurora, floating and never falling as he danced within the midnight cosmos. His step is light and unhindered, his eyes bright with hope, his hair gaily decorated with shimmer and sparkle. All around him, there is nothing by sky. It is Caligo’s realm, one where he does not belong as a mere mortal, but one he cannot help but love. Gone are the shackles of humanity, gone are the doubts and fears. In their place, Azrael finds only freedom.
He tosses in sleep, eyes pinching tighter, not wanting this place to crumble from waking. As he forced the stirring world around him away, the dreamwalker is thrust deeper into the fantasy, lost to this realm and fully sinking into the illusion. There were no rules here – no courtly ideals – no expectations. He is simply alone with his stars. For some time, this continues, and he is content with it… but then, he thinks of the girl. The girl with golden hair and fear in her eyes. Elena. She had gotten under his skin, found her way into his dreams… and the shed-star was lost with what to think about it.
She walks beside him now, and he flicks a glance toward her, meeting her cerulean gaze with uncharacteristic warmth. In the dream, she is smiling – happy and free from the burdens of her own past. She is one with the night, even if it is a night she fears. For that moment, Azrael looks at this dreamscape world through her eyes, seeing the stars anew and unburdened by their secrets. And as he pulls away, she fades into the nebula once more, a fleeting whispered goodbye leaving her lips.
The shed-star wakes with peace wrapped around him like a warm blanket, blinking at what he expected to be the sun, but finding only a starfield before him. He shivers at the irony, shaking himself awake, convinced the dream kept him trapped within the dreamscape… but finds it strange that the world around him stayed the same. Could it be that this place was real, with it’s rolling fog and endless sky? If it was, he mused, then it was as close to heaven as any place he could have known. The magic was an endless sense of fascination, as his mind is enraptured by the impossibility of it all.
And in the distance, Tenebrae walks toward him. At first, Azrael cannot make out who approaches, and he squints harder at the unveiling fog, curious who disturbs the peace of the moment. It is a stranger, he assesses, though one who bears the mark of Caligo. “Brother,” he whispers, “what is this magic, which gathers the stars for endless night?” There is a reverence to his tone – for surely the creator of such a place wielded a powerful sort of gift. But, for that at least, he knew the answer. Azrael had no doubt this place was created by Caligo, keeper of the stars.
@Tenebrae
